


Successful Failure

by DizzyDrea



Series: Scenes From an Accidental Courtship [10]
Category: NCIS: Los Angeles
Genre: Episode Tag, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-11
Updated: 2013-02-11
Packaged: 2017-11-28 21:57:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/679307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DizzyDrea/pseuds/DizzyDrea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes, it's better to be lucky than good. Callen and Nell find out just how much that's true.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Successful Failure

**Author's Note:**

> Oh, the eyes! Nell and Callen, exchanging _looks_ all damned episode! How could I resist? I wasn't originally going to make this part of the _Accidental_ 'verse, but then Muse put her two cents in (basically, she told me that was how it was going to be). So, here's the aftermath of the shoot house incident, plus a little Hetty as a bonus. Information on the Apollo 13 accident comes from my own extensive research (I'm a huge early space program junkie), plus a review of the Apollo 13 Accident Review Board Report. References to _Who Watches the Watchers?_ from the _Accidental_ 'verse.
> 
> Disclaimer: NCIS and NCIS: Los Angeles and all its particulars are the property of CBS, Paramount, Donald P. Bellisario, Belisarius Productions, Shane Brennan, Shane Brennan Productions, and a lot of other people who aren’t me. I am doing this for fun and for practice. Mostly for fun.

~o~

It was late, just past nine. G Callen sat quietly in the near dark bullpen, the shadows pressing in around him from the corners of the headquarters building. 

He wasn't the only person in the building; there were others working late this night. But he wasn't working, not really. He was tipped back in his chair, staring at the darkened ceiling, thinking.

It had been two days since the incident at the shoot house. Two days since he'd almost lost the most important person in his world. Two days in which he'd second, third and fourth guessed his own actions during the case, trying to find where he'd gone wrong.

Nell Jones wasn't just his responsibility out in the field, she was the woman he loved, and he'd almost gotten her killed. He had no doubt that Inman would have killed her if he hadn't gotten what he'd wanted. He'd have killed them all—or tried to—to avoid going down for Parish's murder and the deaths of the strike team. 

Callen wouldn't have let that happen; none of them would have let that happen. There were four guns trained on Inman. He wasn't getting out of that shoot house alive. But with Nell between him and the team, it would have been a difficult shot, and he wasn't sure that he'd have taken it knowing he might hit her instead.

It was the thing that worried him most of all, dating a fellow agent. Out in the field, they were all equals, and personal relationships didn't matter. If he had a shot, he had to take it, and accept the consequences. 

Collateral damage; that's what the analysts called it. The military called it friendly fire. 

Callen had a different word for it: murder.

It didn't matter if the death occurred in the line of duty. He would have been responsible, no matter if it was his bullet that had killed her or someone else's. She'd still be dead, and he'd still be her killer.

"You're brooding."

Callen's head popped up. Nell was standing on the other side of his desk, fingers idly playing with the pens in his cup. She looked tired; dark circles under her eyes and a slightly sallow complexion attesting to nights of interrupted sleep. She'd had nightmares, though admittedly fewer than he'd expected. He'd barely slept, waiting for her to begin thrashing against the sheets wound around her legs. Her cries made his heart ache, but he'd soothe her with nonsense words and gentle strokes, and she'd settle down again.

"I'm not brooding," he said defensively.

"Okay, what would you call it?" she asked as she slowly moved around the desk.

He tilted his head. "Considering the issue from all angles."

"Bullshit," she said, stopping right in front of his chair. "You're brooding."

He tilted himself forward in the chair, feet landing on the floor with a soft thud. She stepped between his legs, pulling his head against her chest and just holding him there, her fingers running through his short hair. He wound his arms around her waist, settling her body against his. He could hear the reassuring beat of her heart under his ear, and his own heartbeat settled in his chest.

"I'm sorry, Nell," he whispered. "I'm so, so sorry."

She squeezed him gently. "Nothing to be sorry about. I know you didn't intend for me to be captured."

He pulled back and looked her in the eye. "Maybe I didn't mean for it to happen, but I didn't think it through, either. I shouldn't have left you in that restaurant alone. I'm the team leader; that's on me."

"Hey," she said, cupping his cheek in her hand. "The LAPD was there. You had no reason to believe that I was in any danger. I don't blame you; I blame Inman."

Callen sighed. "I told you once, a long time ago, that I'd always have your back, but this time I didn't."

"You're not perfect," Nell said, her stress lines fading into a soft smile. "And I love you because you're not perfect. I love you, G. Do you hear me?"

In that particular moment, he couldn't figure out what he'd done to deserve a woman as good as Nell. Any other woman would have ripped his head off. Or worse.

"I hear you," he said. "I love you, too. And I promise that I'll be more careful in the future."

"I don't need you to be more careful," she said, leaning down to press her forehead into his. "I need you to make sure my training takes over the next time I'm facing a tough situation. Do you think you can handle that?"

Callen huffed out a laugh. "Yes, ma'am."

He shifted, pressing his lips to hers. He'd train her, alright. He'd train her to be a better field agent than he'd ever been. He'd make sure that she could survive anything in the field. She was tough, far more competent than most analysts, and he didn't often worry about her. But this had shaken his confidence. He knew the next time anyone suggested that she go into the field, he'd object automatically. He'd lose, but he'd object anyway.

"Hey, you still with me?"

He pulled himself back from his swirling thoughts. "Yeah, I'm still here."

This time, she leaned down and kissed him, gentle and sure. He let the sweetness, the rightness of the kiss soothe his aching heart.

When she pulled away, he smiled up at her, her own sweet smile shining down on him. He pulled her close once more, settling his head on her chest so he could hear the beat-beat-beat of her heart under his cheek.

They stayed like that for some minutes, just basking in the moment, in a moment Callen knew might never have happened if Inman had succeeded.

"Mr. Callen, Ms. Jones."

Callen's head popped up and swung around, catching sight of their diminutive leader standing on the other side of the desk. He looked up at Nell, finding his own surprise reflected on her face.

"My apologies for interrupting," Hetty said. "If I may have a word with you both?"

And with that, she moved off, headed for her office. Callen and Nell shared a look, but if she knew what Hetty was up to, she didn't show it, just lifting her shoulders in a minute shrug that said that she had no idea what was coming.

Callen smirked. "Shall we?"

Nell sighed, but stepped back. Callen rose, and before she could walk off, held out his hand. She looked at it for the briefest moment before slipping her hand into his, smiling up at him as she squeezed his hand.

~o~

They stood in front of Hetty's desk, Nell's heart trying to beat right out of her chest as they watched her sip her tea. She didn't know why their boss had called them over, but she could guess.

It wasn't like their relationship was public knowledge, even though most of the team knew by now. But she also knew that Henrietta Lange had probably known since the beginning. Nothing got past that woman. That still wasn't a comforting thought. And while, technically, there was no rule in place that forbid their relationship, Nell still worried that Hetty wouldn't allow it. 

Or disapprove, which would be worse.

She felt heat at her back, and then warm hands settling on her shoulders. Callen stood behind her, solid and warm. She had no doubt that he would prefer to be standing in front of her, protecting her from whatever blowback they were about to face. It was comforting, knowing she wasn't facing this alone.

"You know, NASA calls Apollo 13 their most successful failure," Hetty said as she set her cup aside. "Despite the fact that their spacecraft was damaged, the men onboard worked with Mission Control to find a solution to the problems they were facing. They relied on their training, and the knowledge of the men who'd designed the spacecraft, to bring them home. They worked together as a team, and achieved something that most believed was impossible.

"The subsequent review board found that there were many mistakes made," she went on, looking at each of them critically. "They recommended changes in design and testing that were designed to spot problems before they became potentially fatal."

"I saw the movie, Hetty," Callen said. "What's your point?"

Nell glanced up to catch his smirk. When she looked back at Hetty, the woman was sitting passively, apparently waiting for Callen to be done smart-mouthing her.

"My point, Mr. Callen, is that no matter how prepared you are, there are still many things that can go wrong, through no fault of your own," she said. "But just because things go wrong doesn't mean people have to die. Ms. Jones, for instance."

She felt Callen squeeze her shoulders. "We got lucky," he said quietly.

"And a wise man once said that it's better to be lucky than good."

Nell chuckled. 

"The question now," Hetty said, "is what you plan to do to make sure it never happens again."

"I'm going to request a review of all procedures related to non-field personnel going out into the field," Callen said, strong and sure. Obviously, he'd given this a lot of thought. "And I'm also going to work on training our support staff—Nell and Eric specifically—for situations like this."

"I'm not a damsel in distress," she reminded him. Despite her earlier words about wanting the training, she need him—she needed both of them—to understand that she wouldn't be a liability in the field. And if she were ever to go out into the field fulltime, she needed them to know she could handle it.

He squeezed her shoulders again, leaning down so he could speak into her ear. "I know. You know your way around a gun, but Eric doesn't. What if it had been him instead of you?"

His breath ghosting over her ear drew a shudder from her, a reaction she tried valiantly to suppress, but the look on Hetty's face told her she'd failed.

"I agree with that assessment, Mr. Callen," Hetty said, apparently ignoring her moment of weakness. "Mr. Beale, in particular, could benefit from some field training. This will likely not be the last time we'll need to send our analysts into the field. I would feel better knowing they're able to defend themselves."

"Agreed," Callen said. "I'll pull together a schedule for your approval."

She could feel some of the tension bleed away from Callen. She'd known that he'd been worried about her—his care of her in the aftermath told her that much—but she hadn't realized that his worry extended to Eric. She should have known, though. Callen considered she and Eric as part of his team, and if her being held hostage had frightened him, the same being done to Eric—who had even less training that she did—would probably have given him nightmares. 

She'd been too wrapped up in her own pain and fear to realize that Callen felt all of hers, and some of his own. She reached up and curled her fingers around his, squeezing gently to let him know she understood.

"As to the rest…"

Nell frowned. The rest of what? She glanced over her shoulder, and found Callen looking at Hetty with a raised eyebrow. She turned back, and saw the woman's lips curl in a faint smile.

"The rest of what?" Callen asked, though she knew he understood Hetty's meaning perfectly.

"I am not opposed to… close personal relationships between my agents," she said, her eyes flicking between them. "I only ask that anything more personal be left outside these doors during normal working hours."

"Our cases rarely stay within 'normal working hours'," Callen said. Nell could hear the amusement in his voice.

Hetty's smile became more pronounced. "Then I would suggest that you redefine your definition of normal."

Callen chuckled. "Yes, ma'am."

Hetty nodded, her smile in full bloom now. Callen squeezed Nell's shoulders one last time, then stepped away, preparing to leave. Hetty's voice stopped them in their tracks.

"Oh, and Mr. Callen?"

He turned, raising an eyebrow in silent question.

"I trust that you will take care of Ms. Jones," she said, eyes twinkling. "She is a valuable asset, and one I'd hate to lose."

"I don't plan on letting anything happen to her," he said, smiling down at Nell. She smiled back, contentment welling in her chest.

"Oh, I wasn't worried about _her_ being harmed," Hetty said. "Although," and here she paused, "justifiable homicide shouldn't be too hard to prove."

Callen's eyes bugged out just a little, drawing a giggle out of Nell. "Come on, let's go home," she said, reaching her hand out for his.

He took her hand with a smile, then glanced over at Hetty. Nell followed his gaze, and found Hetty smiling at them, approval shining in her eyes. Nell nodded at the woman, who nodded back.

She turned back to Callen and squeezed his hand as they headed out for the night. She had no doubt that things would continue to be difficult for a while yet. It would take time for all of them to get over this incident, but they would eventually get past it.

And they would do it together, which was all she could ask for.

~Finis


End file.
